


Almond Joy or Something Like It

by APgeeksout



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2640983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of unrepentant Seth/Roman fluff for howsyasister, whose fic has been known to make my day better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almond Joy or Something Like It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [howsyasister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/howsyasister/gifts).



> Intended as askbox comment-fic, before I realized the askbox is just not that functional! Posted here because, clearly, that'll teach tumblr. /0\

Dean laughs at them every single time. Still, it's mostly his genuine laugh, the soft _why do I like you assholes, again?_ chuckle that doesn't make it on to very many broadcasts, and though Seth always responds with the requisite shit-talk, he doesn't actually mind. Finds it hard, really, to be bothered by much at all, with Roman's fingers working through his hair. 

Coconut and almond, first and most on the right side, to repair the abused hair of his bleached patch, but all over by the time they're done. His hair and his scalp soak up the oil, warmed by Roman's skin before it touches his own. The rest of him drinks in the contact: Roman's knee nudging his hip where he sits behind him and a little to the side, his arms brushing Seth's shoulders as he moves around him, Roman's laugh rich in his ear as they bullshit with (or sometimes about) Dean. The hands that regularly deliver the Superman-punch are so gentle as they untangle curls that are trying to turn into knots, and so sure as they rub small, warm circles into his skin that Seth always finds himself helpless to do much more than lean into the touch and just ache. 

Roman wraps a hot towel around his head - twisting it into a goofy turban that is, all by itself, probably half the reason Dean mocks this - and leans in to press a soft kiss against the back of his neck. 

"You might just be my favorite candy bar," he murmurs, trailing one oil-softened hand down Seth's side. 

He's definitely melting like one. Still, there's no way he can possibly taste as good as he feels right now.


End file.
